


The Sinking Man {Re-written}

by HarrysHook



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Other, Siren, mermaid, pirate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-13 04:50:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3368468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarrysHook/pseuds/HarrysHook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dangerous sea siren has her eyes on ruthless pirate Captain Hook. His thirst for revenge lands him in her troubled waters and straight into the hands of her deadly curse. Will his true heart be enough to break it in time to save himself, or will he succumb to the sorceress forever?</p><p>Note: This version of the story is discontinued. It is being rewritten as it better fits another ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be the shortest chapter of the fic, don't worry. This is entirely backstory and establishing Killian's perspective. And yes, I call him Hook here for a reason. There is a general warning for dark themes in this fic, but each chapter will have specific warnings as well.
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Implied Depression, Death Reference.

It was after midnight and dust made the air thick through the near endless tunnels and caverns of the cave. Moonlight graced the dank stone walls at this time of morning, thus the whole atmosphere chilled to silver. The soft chatter of men was the only disturbance in the bleak emptiness as they searched every crack and misplaced rock.

 

“I want that all sorted by sun-up.” Captain Killian Jones, or ‘Hook’, as evidenced by the metal hook replacing his left hand, called to two of his men carrying a large chest from his perch on a high cliff. At his voice, the rest of the crew stopped searching and scooped up various golden goblets, necklaces and loose coins in their arms to carry back to the ship. His deep blue eyes watched them file through the tunnel, thumb idly rubbing over the only treasure he’d grabbed for himself. 

 

The dark wizard that had murdered his love and taken his hand resided on an island to which Hook sought to gain passage. Located in a cape, it could only be accessed via a narrow straight guarded by a dangerous siren. Rumour told she only granted passage when presented with a divine gift, otherwise she'd drown any man that sailed into her waters. Thus, they’d spent months scouring coastline after coastline, following and looting a wide arc of abandoned shrines around the Maritime Kingdoms, collecting pendants forged to honour the sea goddess’.

 

This was the last stop; this cavern, a shrine to an ancient sorceress being only a kilometre or two from the straight. He knew the pendants took the shape of animals that reflected the deities, and he certainly knew there were not two deities represented by squid. He glared at the shape in his hand; a replica of the sea witch Ursula’s, with cheaper metal. Someone had gotten here before him and stolen his chance at revenge. Jaw clenched, Hook dropped the necklace on the ground and crushed the brittle knock-off under his boot.

 

“Captain!” The voice of his first-mate echoed off the stone as the stumpy man clamoured up next to his captain. A ridiculous duck-feather cloak sprawled around his shoulders and his face red from the climb, “Check out what we found.”

 

Hook jumped up and rushed to his mate’s side, hope in his smile. It crashed to a frown when his mate presented him with with a glove of solid gold,

 

“Just in case you tire of the hook hand!” The icy glare from his captain evaporated his laugh and he chucked the glove over the cliff’s edge, “Uh...w-we couldn’t find the pendant, sir.”

 

“Then you’re wasting my time, Smee.” Hook bristled, shoving passed the smaller man. He stormed his way out of the tunnels, not bothering to wait for his first-mate, footsteps echoing around them. When they reached the ship, the crew all had the same nervous face as they gathered to listen to his orders.

 

“Turn the ship around.” He barked, not stopping to see the response. The gathered men parted and Hook shoved through, rushing down into the Captain’s Quarters. Hook sank into the comfort of his chair, rubbing his tired eyes with the heel of his palm. Black smudged onto his hand from the kohl he wore around his eyes, but he cared little. 

 

His heart dropped to his stomach. The collection of necklaces hanging from wooden pegs on the nearest wall taunted him as the white gold caught the moonlight. At the end of the row, the empty peg seemed to shine the brightest. Hook stretched his hand up and snapped the peg off in anger, splinters narrowly missing his face. The dismembered piece of wood clattered on the desk and rolled until it caught on a leaf of parchment.

 

Hook lifted said parchment, eyes tearing and a lump forming in his throat. It was an old, scribbled portrait, from when his love, Milah, had tried to rub her artistic talent off on him. He’d tried to draw her, and after she’d gone back over his scribbles with her own. Ever the perfectionist.

 

He tried to smile but it wouldn’t come. It had been many years, but the images of Milah dying in his arms as the dark wizard crushed her enchanted heart were still as vivid. As was the pain when his left hand, desperately clutching a magic bean, had hit the deck and blood dripped from his wrist. He remembered the crooked, black goblin smile and those reptilian eyes laughing at him. The same eyes that plagued his nightmares.

 

Hook didn’t, sleep that night. He knew not finding the pendant would only cause his night terrors to return. Once the crew finished dividing the loot, they brought him the chest with his gold piled neatly in columns and an emerald-studded chalice filled with rum. Even the alcohol was hard to swallow. When he rose to deck at sun-up, he was a zombie. Fatigue settled in his bones and his usually sharp eyes dropped to his feet. Sunlight of a clear day would normally be enough to lift his spirit, but today it burned.

 

“Everything alright, Captain?” Smee asked when he reached the wheel. When Hook took over without a response, his first-mate gave a sigh and clapped him on the shoulder, “We’ve enough gold to pay for it when we find it. We’ll get it somehow, sir.”

 

The pirate captain glared down at the man, words involuntarily sharp, “Whoever took it first left that treasure there. They don’t want it.” That logic couldn’t be disputed. Without a word, his mate left him to sail alone, just as Hook preferred it.

 

He hadn’t believed the excuse until it had rolled off his tongue. He wouldn’t be able to barter for it. Thievery was obviously no problem for pirates, but similarly, pirates knew how to not be robbed. If someone looked to collect the necklaces as they had, they’d have the pendant safeguarded. Hook would have to fight for it.

 

 _A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets._ He reminded himself.

 

The phrase repeated in his head until the sun was half to sunset after noon and the Jolly Roger sailed into the docking area of a small cape town. Familiar scents of dock market fish and bread and oils caused the quiet crew to stir, despite the contagious dreary demeanour of their captain. A breeze stirred up over the mountains that towered over the coast, and with it the promise of a warm meal and a warm woman.

 

Hook watched silently as his crew collected on the deck after the ship with safely docked, counting their coins and whispering with excitement. He cleared his throat and they jolted to attention; that earned the slightest smile.

 

“We wait for no man.” He began, descending the steps to walk among his men, “If you’ve not returned by cockcrow, you will be left behind, is that clear?”

 

“Aye!” The cheers rang out and they rushed to disembark into the town. He waited until he was the only one left, aside from the few crew members that stayed behind to care for the ship before trudging off. 

 

The market was busy with poor folk, hunched over in their rags examining this piece of fruit or that wheel of cheese. He snagged a small loaf of soft bread on his hook as he passed one vendor, flicking a coin their way. The way the clerk scrambled to catch the gold suggested the town was impoverished, the sort where you could pay with a rooster and buy the entire stock. Someone holding one of the most valuable artefacts in the kingdoms wouldn't be here.

 

The sky was still brilliant blue when Hook pushed passed the thick throng where the docks connect to the main street, but the mountains were now blocking the sun. An old man on horseback was lighting lamps along the road, giving the town a soft, twilight tenor as the pirate sauntered up the gravel path. Drunken laughter spilled into the street from the tavern wedged between the two largest houses, and Hook pushed his way inside.

 

There were already men drinking their fill and boasting about their trials at work. Hook watched a wench sweet talking a couple of older men, enticing bumbling grins from under their bushy beards before sliding over to him,

 

“Can I get you anything, Captain?” Her hazel eyes flicked down to his hook and he shifted uncomfortably,

 

“Aye, rum. Bring the bottle.” He jammed two coins into her palm and she hurried behind the bar.

 

Hook gave a sigh and slunk to the back of the room, claiming a dusty table for himself and the cup and dice he produced from his coat. He drank in silence most of the night, accompanied only by the miserable thoughts that continued to prick the back of his mind. It wasn’t until midnight a few of the intoxicated noticed the shine of his coins in the torchlight and hobbled over to play, dragging along a few of the more adventurous wenches.

 

It wasn’t hard to win over the drunk at dice. Hook had been drinking, but his tolerance level still left his mind quick and experience left him with double his money each round. The only challenge he’d had was an ebony man, native to the mountains as told by his thick accent. He was more aware than the others and quiet, but his lazy wrist was his weakness. He was starting to enjoy himself and join in the raucous laughter.

 

Suddenly his dice were brushed aside by a hand, skin so fair it reflected the orange glow of torchlight. An overwhelming sense of anticipation crashed over him and Hook’s head shot up; it was another woman, dressed as a wench but he could tell not one herself. She was too beautiful; the most alluring woman he’d set his eyes upon for many years. Golden curls tumbled around her shoulders, lips the softest red he’d ever seen. And her eyes, Gods her eyes.

 

So sea-green he felt like he was drowning in them. Her gaze locked with his and he was spellbound, unable to speak or look down. Not even to the swan pendant of white gold that hung around her neck.

 

Through smirked lips, her voice came as a whisper, _“What are you boys playing?”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Smut, Implied Drugging, Implied Forced Consent
> 
> All three of these things are very important to the story, and I know there are people that wont be happy with which character is doing it so if you're going to complain, this has been fair enough warning.

What were words? The fair maid before the pirate captain had stolen them straight off his tongue. Blood pooled around his cheekbones and she let out a soft chuckle.

 

“Nothing we can’t stop.” He found, grateful that his voice was still smooth and thick with drink and didn’t betray the nervous slamming of his heart in his chest. The man he’d been playing began to protest, but Hook pushed away from the table before he finished.

 

The woman took his hooked hand in her long fingers, sending fire through his belly and lead him to an empty table near the door. Two small tankards awaited them, one of which she lifted to his lips as soon as he took a seat. He took it and they clinked their drinks together before downing them. His head spun wildly as he placed the cup back on the table, causing him to blink.

 

_Odd,_ he thought. He was unable to recall having had that many drinks. She was speaking now through her sly grin, so he pushed his attention away from the blurring at the corners of his vision.

 

“I have a confession to make...” Her tongue darted over her lower lip, causing a shiver to crawl up his back.

 

Hook swallowed and returned her smile with his own, “Most women do.” The woman cocked her head and breathed a graceful laugh. Graceful; that she was. From the way her golden locks tumbled over her shoulder when she turned her head to the way she lifted his left arm to rest on the edge of the table. He sucked in a breath.

 

“I want to know how you got the hook,” smooth fingers traced the steel shape, “You hear so many stories.” her smile was entirely innocent, but the quirk in her eyebrow suggested otherwise.

 

Hook’s heartbeat and breathing patterns were alarmingly rapid now, to the point of choking the words in his throat so he had to scramble for them. Face reddening, tunnel-vision settling in, he slid forward in his seat until he was leaning into her half of the table. When the words finally came to his tongue, they were merely a breathy whisper,

 

“So... You know all about me and here you haven’t even told me your name.” His stomach fluttered like shorebirds desperate to climb into the clouds when a mischievous twinkle graced her eyes. She entertained his gaze, and just before he’d suffocate in her eyes she turned to refill their cups,

 

“What fun would that be?”

 

He shuffled his feet impatiently, “We’re just two ships passing in the night, then?” She flicked her eyes back to his and Hook cocked his head. The woman followed suit with another devilish smirk; her words became dangerously breathy,  
“Passing closely, I hope.”

 

A swallow lodged in his throat, strangling his words, “Speaking of ships… what do you say we leave this place and I’ll _show you mine._ ” Hook made to stand but her hand found his leg,

 

“ _Wait…_ ” Her voice was soft and smooth like water over pebbles. Fingers slid up thigh, tantalizingly slowly, forcing him to sit back in his seat. Breath now audible, trousers suddenly way too tight, he stared at her dumbly through the lightning filling his nervous system.

 

“How about we have a few drinks first?” She offered him his cup and he took it, fingers shaking, and downed the alcohol in one swig; his eyes locked with hers until his vision blurred again. The world spun again, and Hook felt like he was careening off the edge, not realizing she’d given him another drink until it was down his throat and sparking fire in his stomach. 

 

Skin aflame with blush, he found he no longer had control of his arms or hand. He was poking her shoulder when he could finally speak through the haze,

 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re trying to get me drunk,” he slurred, speaking too quickly for his own good, “which is usually my tactic.”

 

Mock pity laced her smile, “What’s wrong, Captain? Can’t hold your rum?” Frustration flared when she quirked that bloody eyebrow at him,

 

“No! Not only can I hold it,” He jabbed a finger into the tip of her nose to make his point, losing his train of thought, “but I can carry it right out the door.” His hand found the neck of the bottle next to him and he clutched it to anchor himself. 

 

“What do you say we set sail?” Tongue dragging over his lower lip, the reason for the discomfort in his trousers obvious as he wobbled to a stand, “Come back with me for a Nightcap.”

 

A grin crept over his face as her gaze trailed down his body, her face flushing when it jolted back to his. She was silent, chewing her lip, green eyes glazing with some emotion he didn’t care to read. Disappointment dripped from his words when she didn’t answer, “Or… shall I find someone else?”

 

“Where is your ship?” She asked, voice thick with lust that drew a chuckle from his lips.

 

“Er, that way.” Unable to remember, Hook gestured vaguely in some direction, “Bit of a walk.”

 

She stood quickly, closing the space between in a long stride. Hazardously close, her words were a whisper he just barely heard through the haze, “Too far.”

 

Her fingers grasped his crimson vest and yanked him into a kiss, making him drop the bottle of rum with a loud crash. Knocking this lungs clean of air, she sent him gasping when their lips met. Sparks flew through his veins, the taste of rum and sea salt on her tongue making his muscles twitch with ecstasy. 

 

She walked him backwards, pulling him upright with each stumbling step until his back smacked into a door and they tumbled into the street. The shock of cold night air broke them apart, chests heaving, eyes wild with need. She grabbed his belt and dragged him into one of the large buildings next to the tavern, shoving the door open and parading into the nearest room.

 

The building was an inn, the room small with one end table and one cot, onto which she pushed him as soon as the door clicked shut. Hook's fingers were numb as he hastily untied the loose laces of her corset, vision entirely compromised now. 

 

His coat was too heavy; claustrophobic and boiling. She was removing her dress, giving him enough room to yank the leather from himself. Before it hit the floor, she was unbuttoning his vest, his hook pulling at her undergarments. Her hands were like ice against the skin on his stomach when she unburdened him of his vest and shirt. Fingers trailing down to his waistband, she left visible strings of gooseflesh, eliciting deep, dark moans from the depths of his throat. 

 

The laces on his leather trousers tugged loose as she pulled them down his legs, trailing kisses up his inner thigh. A groan escaped him as her smooth fingers wrapped around his cock, sliding slowly southward, thumb pressed firmly into his skin. Hook groaned again, louder when she released him, standing to remove the rest of their clothes.

 

He tried to help her, but the muscles in his limbs wouldn’t respond, leaving him splayed, naked and helpless before her. Hasty lips locked with his own again, sending Hook swimming in and out of consciousness.

 

His eyes blinked open the first time when she clutched his wrist and dragged his hand over her breasts, straddling him now. Knees on either side of his hips, she was frustratingly close; one thrust of his hips and he could be inside her. Yet he still couldn't move, paralyzed under the way her eyes bore into his. The calm sea in her gaze had turned black with lustful storm.

 

The second time he awoke to blissful curses spilling from his lips; her heat sinking down on his aching cock frustratingly slow. Pleasure bubbled just beneath the surface of his skin, forcing his jaw to slacken and his spine to shiver. She mewled delicious moans into his ear with each rock of her hips, fingers grasping desperately at his hair. Each tug sent spikes of ecstasy to his groin and knocked grunts from his lungs.

 

He could see when he came to the third time, the blur from before quickly being replaced by spots of vibrant colour. His fingers dug into her thigh, feeling her muscles tremble as her pace became sporadic. His hips started to buck and her moans shifted to sharp gasps and explicits of various languages. The slap of slick flesh joining and the stench of sex filled the air, burning his skin with desperate pleasure. Bliss boiled deep in his gut, threatening to spill, steaming, through his body.

 

Teeth connected with is shoulder and the floodgates opened, sending him calling out as he struck climax and toppled over the edge. Blood roared in his ears, galaxies of colours splashing across his vision until his head ached and his limbs fell limp and useless once again. She rested her forehead against his, and Hook struggled to keep his head above water. Their eyes locked and he was slipping back into unconsciousness to the sight of constellations whelping, living and dying all in her eyes.

 

**She was the night and he was seeing stars.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Mild smut, Mild body horror

The sharp squawk of a gull forced Hook’s eyes open. Groaning, he shut them quickly against the harsh sunlight pouring into the room and placed his palm against his throbbing temple. An echoing sigh next to his ear startled him, and he slowly began to recall where he was.

The wench, whom he still did not know the name of, lay askew on top of him, their legs tangled and her arms draped loosely around his shoulders. Hook winced as she shifted in her sleep, tugging sensitive flesh between his legs and memories of that flesh joining with hers sparked in the corners of his mind. Like dreams he couldn’t quite recall and it made his stomach twist in panic.

The gull squawked again and he jolted, realising the sun was indeed up. He’d done exactly what he’d told his crew not to.

_Bad form_ , he groaned internally, trying to wriggle free from his companion without waking her. Clothes were strewn wildly around the room but he managed to dress quickly, folding his leather jacket over his shoulder and rushing to the door.

Yet his fingers lingered on the brass latch, an object catching his eye as it shone in the sunlight. He glanced down next to his boot and the breath caught in his throat.

A few links of chain lay broken across the floorboards at the foot of the bed from where he vaguely remembered ripping it off. The white-gold of the swan pendant, however, remained unscathed. Hook grabbed it instinctively, turning it in his fingers, pinching it between his thumb and index. It was real.

Somehow, somewhere, this wench had obtained his treasure. If he hadn’t been so elated, he would’ve been angry. As it were, he stuffed it into his waistcoat and shoved out the room. Thankfully, the streets and docks were mostly empty in the morning and finding his way to the water was easy.

Everyone snapped to attention the moment his boots hit the deck of the Jolly Roger. Confused eyes darted over his disheveled form and Smee cleared his throat, “We were waiting for you, Captain.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Did I not tell you this ship waits for no man?”

Smee’s eyes widened and he visibly struggled for words, but Hook barked a laugh, “Worry not, Mr. Smee,” pushing through the crowd, he climbed up the stairs to look over his crew,

“Today, is a beautiful day, lads!” Fishing through the fabric on his chest, he produced the pendant and lifted it into the air by the remains of the chain, “We’re heading inland!”

The crew cheered and he grinned, “No longer are we to be subject to this vile game of hide and seek! With this pendant our pursuit of treasure is over, and soon with it our pursuit of revenge. The only thing standing in our way now is a sea witch.” He spat the word like poison, and several men shouted in agreement, “Well we’ll soon show her. Justice will fall upon the man that took our Milah. Not the king’s justice, but a **pirate’s** justice! And nothing dare block our path now. Hoist the anchor! It’s time to face the Dark One.” Another cheer, and complimentary slaps on the back as Hook descended into the Captain’s cabin. 

A hum fell from his smile as he stood in front of his, finally, complete collection, fingers twisting the ends of the chain into a knot to hang neatly on the empty peg. Hook sighed and grinned to himself, scratching just behind his ear. The soft skin smarted under his finger, a bruise from his forgotten pursuit of passion the night before.

“Nice speech!”

The voice startled the Captain and he whipped around, equally shocked by the figure sitting on his bed in the far corner. A woman… no, _the_ woman who he’d woken up tangled in. All golden curls and beaming grin when he blinked at her curiously,

“How the bloody hell did you get in here?”

“You’re slow.” She shrugged, lower lip pouting slightly. The ship lurched around them as she departed and he grumbled low in his throat. However she got aboard didn’t bloody matter now,

“Where we’re headed is no place for a bar wench.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Captain,” her grin was devious, “You’ve taken something of mine so I’d thought the least you could do is give me a ride.”

Hook side-stepped protectively in front of the pendants but she waved him off, “Oh calm down. When you fuck a pirate you expect them to take something.”

A heat rose in his throat, making his eyebrows knit together. He pushed his mind to remember their meeting, but nothing aside from light flashes of their conversation in the bar came to him.

“You had a lot to drink.” She smiled as if reading his mind, “The rum was pretty strong.”

Hook nodded and stepped back when she approached him, but she ignored it and cupped his chin in her fingers anyway, “I only need to go as far as the strait anyway.”

He wanted to ask how she knew he was headed there; the inhabitants of this island chain were blissfully unaware of the Dark One’s residence when he’d asked about the subject. His head was reeling from her proximity, fuzzing and tangling the words on his tongue until he pulled away,

“Fine; you’ll have to swim ashore.” If she wanted to be eaten by a sea demon, let her.

“I’m no stranger to the water, Captain.” Her bloody eyebrow quirked and he exhaled through his nose,

“Stay down here. I’ll retrieve you when we’ve arrived.” 

“Emma.” She said suddenly when his foot met the first step. An eyebrow lifted on his forehead when he turned to her, puzzled, “You asked for my name last night. It’s Emma.”

He chewed his lip for a moment, tongue darting to soothe it before saying, “Nice name, Emma.”

Before she could respond, he hurried onto the deck and caught Smee’s arm as the stumpy man shuffled passed.

“Yes, Captain?”

“There is a woman on board. Who let her on my ship?”

“I-uh- I’m not sure…”

“Find out.” Hook gruffed, pushing his mate aside.

The winds favoured them as they left the village behind, allowing them to overtake the cave they’d plundered the day previous and the strait came into view just as the sky was turning evening red. He had barely noticed the tall cliffs come into view on the horizon, hook absent-mindedly steering and fingers just as thoughtlessly plucking at his belt.

Hook didn’t appreciate hazy memories, and he knew for certain he hadn’t had enough alcohol to knock him out so violently. Who was the woman below his feet and what had she done to him? Continued to do to him, more like it, as he’d felt his head buzz and his heart pound every time he stepped over the hatch to his quarters. It frustrated him immensely; even when Turk called for dinner, he took his share and trudged to the Captain’s Cabin alone.

He found her reading a book at his desk, legs propped up on the table as she leaned back in the creaking chair. She ignored him for awhile as he stood in the doorway, unsure how to process the stranger in his space. Setting his jaw, Hook shook his head and shoved the tray of stew and bread at her. Her legs slid off the table, but she didn’t lower the book, some ancient tome of sea beasts and sirens,

“Hello to you too.”

“What did you do to me?” He demanded, plucking the book from her hands. Folding her fingers over her stomach, Emma smiled sweetly at him, 

“What do you mean?”

“What happened last night?”

She snickered, “You don’t know what fucking is?”

He grimaced at the harsh word, “Why don’t I remember?”

“You drank a lot.”

“Not that much.”

She snickered again, “It wasn’t bad if that’s what you’re worried about.” He growled under his breath and shoved the food closer to her, 

“Eat.”

“Not hungry.” She shrugged and reached for the book again.

“Suit yourself.” Pulling a chair to sit across from her, he used the bread to scoop up a mouthful of stew.

They sat in silence for a moment before she looked up from the pages, “Are we close to the strait?”

“Aye,” Hook mumbled around a chunk of potato, “We’ll be there before midnight.”

That sweet smile again, “Good!”

She was indeed a curious human being; he lifted an eyebrow, “Good? That’s high time for mermaids. You’ll have to swim through that, lass”

"They only look poorly on pirates, I'm afraid." She twirled a golden lock around her fingers and he was bloody ready to rip it out from the way she twisted his heart with it. Emma sensed his thoughts and leaned over the table, bringing her face inches from his,

“Something wrong, _Captain?_ ” 

Heartbeat in his throat, he swallowed and met her sea-green eyes with his icy blue, “Damn wench. I can’t bloody think with you around.”

“Your mind may not remember last night,” Voice a whisper, her fingers traced his thumb, “but your body sure does.”

Hook’s breath caught and his cock throbbed in his leather trousers, confirming her statement. His stomach did a flip as he recalled his lips crushing hers, tongues sliding together, teeth nipping tender, swollen flesh. And her lips were so close now, pulling him in…

“Suddenly I’m not hungry.” He gasped, standing forcefully enough to knock over the chair. The shock on her face would have amused the pirate, but he was already up the stairs and slamming the hatch shut before she could sit back down.

The temperature had dropped dramatically while the sun sank below the horizon, and Hook could see faint wisps of steam on his breath. The chill relaxed his muscles and slowed his pounding heart. A few crew members remained on board and he dismissed them, needing to watch to stars come to life alone.

The Jolly Roger rocked gently a bit ahead of the mouth of the strait and the sharp cliffs around it rose ominously before them. The waterway looked barely wide enough to fit two ships side by side, certainly not comfortably. Of course the Dark one would find somewhere his ship would have trouble going.

The thought of the Dark One made Hook’s stomach flip. He clenched his fist then his jaw, anger bubbling in his gut. They were so close to their revenge, he could feel the enchanted dagger in his hand, see it being plunged into the dark wizard’s chest….

Hook took a deep breath to calm himself. Fog tumbled down the cliffs and cloaked the ship as the sky turned black and blue. The time was close for the siren to awaken. 

His heart jumped to his throat. The bloody pendants were still below deck with that stupid wench. He’d have to retrieve them, and her, but just thinking about her was making his head pound.

“You forgot these.”

Startled at Emma’s sudden appearance at his side, he jumped, bumping into the slick railing, “What the bloody hell, woman. Stop doing that.”

She grinned, holding the necklaces out to him, “Here, you’re gonna need these.”

“Are you sure you want to swim out there?” He stuffed them in his waistcoat, away from her view as he turned back to the strait. The cliffs were nothing but smudged shadows now in the thick fog.

“No.” She muttered, drawing a frown to his face when he turned back to her.

“No? You wanted me to bring you he-” Before Hook could finish, her hands fisted the collar of his shirt, forcing his head down to crash lips with hers. 

His mind swam and he tried to pull away, but her teeth against his lip held him firmly against her. Stars popped in his vision, fuzzing under splashes of colour until it was unbearable and he shut his eyes.

The sound of a snap broke through the blood roaring in his ears, and another, and another before he realised she was popping the buttons off his waistcoat. As the last clattered on the wooden boards, she forced it and the shirt underneath onto the deck. She pushed him backward, his bare flesh smacking into the wheel. The ship lurched under them, but his brain was too clouded to care. 

Her lips were on his jaw, his neck, his collarbone and he suddenly could remember their night together; their flesh joining in sweet bliss, her eyes swirling with stars and the taste of ecstasy on her tongue. The same taste the hummed on his skin now. 

“Emma…” She ignored him, shutting him up by forcing her lips onto his again. Her fingers tugged the laces of his trousers free and they crumpled to his ankles, cold fog biting his skin. She pulled her lips from his when his cock started to twitch and stiffen between them, eliciting a pitiful whimper from the back of his throat. His heart stopped as she opened her eyes.

They glowed like stars. 

“What the bloody h-” The air was knocked from from his lungs she lifted the swan pendant on the tattered chain into the air and his body was forced back into the wheel. Her skin started to shimmer in the light of the moon and his heart dropped; he’d been deceived.

“Bloody siren!” He spat, struggling against her magic. Amusement danced in a smile on her lips,

“All you pirates are the same. Can’t resist fucking a woman just to take her things in pursuit of your petty revenge.”

_Petty_ ; the word sliced him like a knife, and his mouth twisted in defiance, “You know nothing of my revenge.”

“Oh I know many things, Captain. I know that it’s for a woman. Your Milah. Yet you have no trouble bedding other women on your journey without even knowing their name. I knew you’d be sailing through my waters and I tested you. Just like every other pirate captain, you failed. You’re lustful and greedy and every sin in between.”

The words danced in his head and he dropped his eyes, realising she was right. He’d fought so hard to maintain good form after his brother died all those years ago. It was all for naught; the pirate’s life had grasped him and not let him go.

When she spoke again, her voice was softer, taking him by surprise, “I know you’re not a bad man, Killian Jones,” his true name sent a painful spike of loneliness through his heart, “I can feel it. So I will not doom you and your crew to the rocks.”

Hook lifted his head, mouth slightly agape, “What?”

“You will, however, be a slave to the sea until you have repaid your debt.”

He wanted to ask what she meant, to say thank you, but before he could form the words, she closed the space between them with a long stride and kissed him again. Not hot and desperate like before, but gentle, slowly burning his lips in delicacy. When she pulled away, however, she sucked the air from his lungs.

He couldn’t breathe; chest aching despite him gulping at the fog swirling around them. Panic shot through his veins, muscles twitching, eyes wide. A sicking ripping sound sounded in the flesh on his neck.

He collapsed on the deck, a scream ripping through him as he clawed desperately at his throat. Blood oozed between his fingertips and in thick strings from his lips, coughing, gasping. Hook could feel the deep slits growing just below his jaw on either side of his neck.

Suddenly a sharp pain spiked though his groin, and he cried out again, garbled this time by the crimson liquid flooding his throat. He tried to scramble to his feet but he fell hard, legs unresponsive. They couldn't move away from each other, flesh sticking like hot wax. He watched his skin come undone, only to sew back together over his conjoined legs with morbid magic. All he could do was buck desperately with his knees but it was no use. Legs turning black and rubbery, throat burning for air, Hook’s body finally went limp.

Emma lifted her hand again, bringing his now dead-weight body with it. She let him dangle for a moment, laughter on her lips, before tossing him overboard and into the sea. As his body hit the water with a loud splash, his lungs responded, and he gulped desperately. Eyes flicking open, he found he could see clearly, the rocks all muted shades of blue and green. He tried to swim, but his legs wouldn’t move correctly. Glancing down, his breath caught.

Fins grew off his former legs, reflecting the tail of sea mammals he’d come across on his travels. Arching his back, Hook kicked hard with his knees and it propelled him up. He tried again with the same result, but the high of adrenaline was short lived when a wave rolled by, crashing into him. The force was dizzying, but he didn’t have time to right himself before another barreled him into the current.

He tried to kick, swim, but it was no use, the rocks were fast approaching as he was tossed through swirling foam. His temple struck one first, blackening his sight. He clutched desperately at the stone, fingers scraping and hook trying to find any form of notch to cling to. Another wave beat down upon him, forcing his forehead to hit against the rock. His brain fuzzed over, pulling him down into unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: very mild smut, mild body horror, harsh language

“Captain overboard!”

The shout and the sound of bells clanging hard above him roused Hook out of black smog coating his mind. The morning sunlight was harsh on his eyelids as he peeled his cheek off the rock his limbs wrapped around. He couldn’t move any of his muscles, nor remember how the hell he ended up soaked, clinging to stone in the sea.

“Throw the net!” He heard someone yell, and a few slow heartbeats later, a pile of coarse rope fell upon his shoulder. A harsh, scratchy groan fell from his lips as he lifted his left arm, and hooked it through the mesh. It took all this strength to let go of the rock and grip a knot with sore fingers.

There was a tug, and his torso, then legs were dragged onto the net and hauled into the air. His body trembled with stress and fatigue as his men dragged him aboard. It wasn’t until he felt strong hands on his shoulders and heard Smee shout to fetch his clothes that he realised he was completely naked.

Face flushing, he grabbed the blanket presented to him and wound it around himself, legs barely able to keep him on his feet.

“Are you alright, Captain?” Smee asked, handing him the wet tangle of his discarded clothes. Humiliation and anxiety choked whatever witty remark had been rising in his throat and all he could do was nod and duck his head.

“Should we head back into port?”

Confused, Hook turned to the front of the ship, and a scowl crossed his face. The clear strait that had been there in the night was now a sheer cliff face, jagged stone only a metre or two from chewing into the Jolly Roger.

“Aye.” He breathed, pushing through the crowd and into his quarters. Legs giving as soon as he shut the hatch, he collapsed hard onto the steps. Curses fell from his lips but he didn’t try to stand, just shifted until he was comfortable.

Hook pushed his cold mind to recall what had happened. He remembered Emma briefly, her fingers on his skin, her tongue on his lips. Her magic ripping through his flesh…

His fingers brushed over the deep wounds that had opened under his jaw in the night, but found only thin, smooth scars under prickly stubble.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” Hook jumped at the voice, head knocking against the ceiling. He groaned and blinked rapidly at the fuzz in his vision until a hand held his chin steady,

“I was beginning to worry you weren’t as strong as I’d thought.”

His top lip curled angrily when his vision focused and he saw the woman standing over him, “You!”

“Yes, me.” Emma smiled mockingly, pushing wet clumps of hair from his forehead.

“Fucking witch, what did you do to me?” He snarled, shoving her away and holding his hook protectively in front of him.

She raised an eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips, “Honestly, Captain, I know you’re old but I thought your memory would be better.”

A growl rumbled in his chest, “I was...I was a mermaid.”

“A mer _man_ ” She corrected with an eyeroll, “And a terrible one at that; you could barely swim.”

“Why? Why not just kill me? You’re a siren.” Hook had meant to sound angry, but his strength was failing him.

To his surprise, she sighed and sat on his desk, “I told you; I don’t believe you’re a bad man. I believe you’ll be able to change.”

That was the most faith anyone had ever put in him, “You’re wrong, I am nothing if not my revenge.”

“Maybe, but worth a shot.”

“Why can I walk now?” She raised an eyebrow and looked at his legs, crumpled under him, “You know what I mean.”

“You’re my slave, not my prisoner.” She chuckled.

“What’s the difference?” He groaned and Emma rolled her eyes,

“You won’t be a merman all the time. Only in the dark will you have to return to sea.”

“Is that some cryptic magic bullshit about becoming a monster or what?”

She laughed again, surprising him, “Oh you stupid humans. Your stories about things that go bump in the night are so wrong. The darkness doesn’t stop life, it starts it. It’s the only time you can see things as they truly are.”

“And what am I?” He challenged, a sly quirk in his eyebrow, but it was half-hearted. She remained silent, unanswering, but her wide sea-green eyes made him divert his gaze, “What do I have to do?”

“I need you to take me back to Mist Haven,” Her arms folded, a crease forming between her eyebrows, “to the edge of the maritime kingdoms. I need to be there within the fortnight.”

“You enslaved me to be your transport service?” Hook scoffed, shaking his head, “You could have just asked, lass, I’d have been happy to help. Now, no way.”

“Then, sorry, if you wont help me, you wont get this.” Fishing around in her corset, Emma produced a tiny glass jar packed with sand-like grains. 

“Fairy dust?” His eyebrow quirked, puzzled, “I could find that anywhere.”

“Oh it’s not fairy dust.” She shook the bottle in her fingers and the sand inside began to shimmer and glow a deep blue-silver, “Moondust.”

“What?” Scoffing, he sat up, trying to get a closer look, “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Emma yanked the bottle away from his prying gaze, cradling it delicately between her fingers, “It’s an ancient form of magic; stronger than pixie dust even. It pools at the bottom of the sea where no living being can reach it.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“It can cure any spell or curse; it holds the same magic as true love’s kiss.” She reached out a finger, tracing the curve of his bottom lip. Hook’s breath hitched as he struggled against the urge to flick his tongue against it, to taste her sweet flesh again.

_No._ That wasn’t him; that was her seeping into his brain like the vile witch she was. 

“On my ship, we keep our hands to ourselves.” He growled as he pushed himself to stand, knocking her hand away. Laughter danced in her eyes, 

“So you’ll take me then?”

“It seems I’ve no choice.” Grumbling, he shuffled past her to tug on his loose-fitting nightclothes; the thin, white fabric a sharp contrast to his usual onyx leathers, “You are to stay down here. I don’t want to see you on deck, is that clear?”

“Aye aye, Cap’n.” Emma gave a mock salute and grinned up at him; oh how he boiled to steal that smirk off her lips with his own, to shove her against the stairs and punish her for humiliating him, for cursing him. Instead he balled his fist and shoved passed her, rushing on deck and slamming the hatch shut.

“Are you alright, Captain?” Smee repeated the earlier question as he rushed to Hook’s side.

“Aye.” He was too tired to care how weak the word sounded on his lips.

“We’re en route to the port again, sir.” His first mate motioned up to the wheel.

“No,” the pirate captain sighed, unable to believe the words about to come out of his mouth, “We need to head back to Mist Haven.”

Smee and several near by crew members turned to him, eyes wide in silent confusion but not daring question their captain. Hook’s mouth felt suddenly dry and he flicked his tongue to wet his lips before explaining,

“There is nothing left for us here; the siren didn’t accept our offering so we’ll return when we’ve found another way to pass her.”

“Aye, Captain.” his mate nodded, rushing to deal out orders. Hook sighed and took up the wheel, veering the ship hard to port, and into the deep sea. 

The bitch, of course, didn’t listen to his warning to remain below deck, and before dusk was busying herself with talking to his crew, distracting them from their work. He set his jaw and tried to ignore the way her laugh lilted on the ocean breeze or the pink-lipped grins she shot up at him. 

_Get her home and she’ll let you go._ He reminded himself, steeling his emotions as she waltzed up to the helm and danced her fingers up his arm,

“Good evening, Captain.” Emma purred, linking her fingers around his hook. He grunted a greeting, afraid to risk speaking for the heat bubbling under his skin.

“Oh don’t be so grumpy,” Her whisper was directly in his left ear and Hook struggled to still the shiver crawling up his back, “I want you in a good mood for your first night.”

“Piss off.” He growled through clenched teeth, just loud enough for her to hear. His heart fluttered faster the closer the sun dipped toward the horizon. He’d grown up relying on the stars, but now they leered at him as they gathered in the darkening sky.

A reminder of who he really was. A slave.

“Turn in early, men. We have a long way to go yet.” He called to his crew. There were confused glances exchanged, but no one questioned him as they shuffled below deck. Hook watched, arms folded, breathing growing more rapid with each footstep.

He waited until the last man disappeared before rounding on the witch, “I told _you_ to stay below deck.”

"Touchy," she tsked and pushed a stray strand of hair out of his face, "you're much less attractive like this, I must say."

Ignoring the flip of his stomach, Hook strode over to the railing, swallowing the lump in his throat. The dark water surged, rocking the ship and spraying him with light foam.

As the droplets clung to his skin, the muscles in the pirate captain's throat twitched horribly, making him cough.

_Fuck_ , he thought, panicking, bracing himself for the searing pain he remembered from the night before.

"Relax," she breathed in his ear, suddenly close again. Her fingers danced over his shoulders, pulling lightly at the laces in his collar.

He couldn't respond, but he listened, letting her drag the shirt over his head. Emma traced the lines of his collarbone, down the trail of hair to his naval and along the ties of his trousers.

She tugged, and they fell to his ankles, his breath catching in the cold air. A shiver ran up his spine and he felt the stretching in his legs.

"It hurts less if you're in the water." Emma mumbled against his neck, peppering kisses over the sensitive scars. Each time she pulled away, he felt them open, slowly clearing the lump in his throat. But his chest was tightening, each gasp of air growing more difficult. _Water_ ; he needed water.

Hook’s eyes widened when she smirked up at him, shoving hard on his shoulders. His legs were unsteady now, the muscles in his inner thighs twitching painfully, and he struggled to keep himself upright against the wooden railing.

“Stop resisting.” She sighed and flicked her hand up; Hook’s legs were swept up from under him and he toppled backward, over the wooden rail and head-first into the sea below. As soon as his body struck the water, his legs numbed, and when he pushed himself upright, he could see the tail had returned, flapping uselessly as he tried to kick.

There was a muted splash behind him, and a swirl of foam rocked his body. Using his arms, Hook swiveled his torso around against the shockwave, letting it push and pull him in the right direction. Emma floated past him with frustrating ease, the smile on her dark lips amused. The red of her dress lifted off her like smoke, dissipating in the dark blue like a cloud of blood. Her ragged, torn gown underneath was bright white silver in the streaks of moonlight filtering through the surface.

She reached out a hand and caught his hook, dragging him along beside her, his body helplessly bumping against hers. He heard her sigh, as if they were on land and not deep in the ocean, and mumble as she slowed, “Stop pretending you have legs. You don’t.”

As she released him, Hook pressed his hand to the warm flesh of his… tail. God that was weird, and he forced himself not to gag when he thought about it. She was right, though. He gave the new appendage a hard roll instead of a kick and he jolted forward, to his surprise. He felt an approving push on his shoulder, and tried again, and again, until he was swimming in a straight line. 

He used his arms to steer himself until he was facing the way he’d come; Emma was smiling at him, her white hair floating around her like a halo. She shot toward him suddenly; her fingers trailed down the back of his neck, a smirk on her dark lips,

“I told you.”

Gods he wanted to wipe that smile from her bloody mouth, but Hook fought the urge, pulling from her touch,

“What do I have to do for you?” He was surprised to find his voice almost ungarbled, but tried not to let it show.

Emma chuckled, raising an eyebrow, “Who said I need you to do anything?”

“I’m here as your slave, aren’t I?” He mirrored her eyebrow.

“Well if you _insist_ you don’t just want to learn how to swim...”

He cursed himself as he followed the siren deeper into the blue, until he could barely see the moonlight above. The pressure from the water squeezed his back, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant when he took deep breaths.

They swam past schools of fish, and Hook reached out his hand to skim over the scales. The tiny creatures darted playfully away from his touch, but lingered outside his reach, eyes flicking around his body in a rapid pace. He wondered briefly, if they could tell he wasn’t supposed to be there. Fish knew when terrible storms were brewing in the waves, so could they sense the magic cuffs around his wrists?

Did they think he was another body dumped overboard to pick the flesh from?

He supposed he was, after all.


	5. Chapter 5

The Jolly Roger had been sailing over a drop-off and the depths were even more intimidating up close. The cliff’s face was smooth under the water, cold to the touch with seaweed only clinging near the surface. Deeper down, the stone cracked, and tiny fish and other sea creatures nestled in the shelter, eyes curious as they floated passed. 

A looming shadow on in the wall rose before them and Emma guided him toward it. A cavern opened inside and he gasped when he saw the expanse of it. Two ships wide and maybe five deep, and the walls lined with blue gems glimmering with foreign light. When Hook rested his hand on one, it was warm against his skin.

“What is this?” He asked, bubbles swirling from his lips. Emma floated to his side, a smile playing at the corners of her eyes.

“Fairy dust. Untouched by man,” He drew his hand away at that, “and allowed to form into these crystals underwater.”

“It’s beautiful.” Despite the circumstances, the captain found a smile on his lips, “But why did you bring me here?”

“You’re a strong, masculine pirate...” He lifted an eyebrow as she traced the muscles in his shoulders with slow fingers, “There’s a cave in here blocking one of my shrines. Open it.”

At once, his muscles responded, forcing him to swim deeper into the cavern, his body bending to her will. The cave in was easy to spot in the darkest corner where the bright gems would be buried under rubble. The boulders were large, but it took Hook moving only a few stones until the blockade loosened and crumbled to the cave bottom. Too easy for her not to do herself, he watched as she curiously swam into the small, unearthed tunnel. He followed, the water darkening as they left behind the shimmering stones.

“Stay there!” Hook made out her shout ahead, unable to see her now. Confused at her urgent tone, he slowed but continued anyway,

“Emma?” His eyes adjusted to a weak touch of light on the walls. Curiosity pushed him forward, despite her warning. He saw her now, outlined against an entrance to somewhere emitting the dull silver light.

Swimming closer, his skin warmed and itched, flecks of shimmering dust sparking against his bare arms and chest. The water itself was thicker, like he was swimming through something far more viscous. He called her name and she responded, turning back to face him.

Hook flinched when he saw her face, no longer the beautiful siren that had enchanted him in that tavern. Now she was old, wrinkles turning her mouth into a grizzled sneer. Her silver hair was black whips about her face and her eyes were blind and lifeless.

“I told you to wait!” She snarled, voice high-pitched and shaky.

He didn’t need to be reminded twice; the captain spun around and swam back through the tunnel as fast as he could. Dazed, Hook slumped against the cold stone walls at the entrance. What the hell had happened to her? He’d not left her for more than thirty seconds… how was it possible for someone, even a magical being, age so quickly?

When she emerged from the tunnel, Hook recoiled, expecting the hag to punish him. But she’d returned to her usual beauty, her cheeks painted in dark violet. She clutched his shoulder, sea-green eyes glassy and grip frail,

“Let’s return to the ship.”

Hook wrapped his left arm around her waist and carried her out of the cavern and up to the surface, a rope trailing in the water behind the Jolly. His fingers clutched it and his legs fell apart, lungs breathing when he pulled them out of the water. She vanished as he blinked, leaving him to climb alone. Grumbling curses under his breath he pulled himself up the rope and through an open window in his quarters. She was waiting for him there, his clothes and a towel folded in her hands.

“Fuck.” Hook growled, stumbling when he tried to walk toward her, legs weak and useless.

“It gets better.” She assured, with less snark than he’d expected. Gazing at her curiously, the captain let her run the towel through his hair and down over his shoulders. She dumped it in his lap, letting him finish drying himself before handing him his clothes. Without a word, she took a seat at his desk, eyes looking absently over the maps sprawled there.

“We will be back in Mist Haven within the week." The captain assured, noticing her eyes lingering over the area as he pulled on his leathers. She didn't respond, fingers pulling a book open to read. Unsure how to ask why she was suddenly somber, Hook crawled into his small bed in the corner. Muscles aching in unfamiliar places, he drifted into sleep as soon as he hit the blankets.

It didn't last long, however, as Smee's hand was shaking his shoulder as soon as dawn light spilled over the sea and sky,

"What the bloody hell do you want?" He growled, shoving away the stumpy man's hand.

"Captain, there's a storm fast approaching." Attention caught, Hook sat up, blinking until his eyes adjusted to the dying sunlight filtering through the window. Black clouds smudged the horizon, reaching out long tendrils in the whipping wind.

When he looked around the room, it was strangely empty. For a moment he panicked Emma had grown tired of his service and this was the death he was due. To his relief, however she stood at the helm when he emerged on deck, her marble fingers sliding over the rocking wheel. She smiled when she noticed him climbing the steps, the traces of weariness lining her eyes yesterday forgotten. He tried desperately to ignore that flicker of regret in her deep turquoise gaze, forcing himself to believe the bright facade she quickly pulled,

“Good morning, Captain.” She purred as he inched between her and the wheel, letting her fingers brush over the back of his hand. Steadying the spokes, he waited until Smee was out of earshot to murmur at her,

“Can you change the course of the storm?”

“I could,” her voice was teasing, and Hook felt his gut turn, “but I won’t.”

“We can’t exactly get you to Mist Haven in a shipwreck, milady.”

Emma quirked an eyebrow in his direction, “Maybe next time you’ll listen when I tell you to stay put.”

His heart stopped, hand stilling on the wheel. Was she really about to punish his whole crew so harshly for his disobedience? As if reading his thoughts, she slid a comforting finger across his tensed forearm,

“Relax. Think of it as a test; if you make it through this alive, then you will impress me, and I might be more lenient on you.”

“And if I don’t?” The captain swallowed.

“Well, you’re not of any use to me dead.” She whispered in his ear before stalking away. When she reached the top of the stairs, she turned back, her hair fanning over her shoulder, “One more thing, Captain. The world tends to darken in a storm.”

Confused, Hook wanted to ask what she meant, but a jarring clap of thunder ripped through the air, startling the crew,

“Smee, how long until the storm is upon us?”

“Twenty to thirty minutes, Captain.” 

“Enough time to turn around?” He pulled the old telescope from inside his coat, yanking it open with his teeth and peering through it. He saw lightning leaping through the blackening clouds, making faint rumbles on the wind.  
“Aye sir, but that will set us back some days on our schedule. Plus we might get nicked on the edge of the storm.”

“Better the edge than the center.” Hook mumbled, yanking hard on the spokes until the wheel spun rapidly. The Jolly Roger groaned at the sudden change in direction, but she caught a surging breeze and began to turn toward her starboard side. 

The waves swelled as they made a tight arc, the puzzled crew clutching tight to the railings and ropes. With the sudden turbulence, clouds cloaked the sun. Rain roared on the ocean and snarling thunder rolled across the air, filling it with static and hot moisture. The sky blackened horrifyingly quick as he barked orders to the men maneuvering the sails.

Then it started. 

The last of the sunlight drained from the sky and the unpleasant ache in his legs began. Horror ripped through his throat, opening the gills under his jaw. Panicking, he tried to cover them with the tall collar of his leather coat.

Blackness shrouded the sea and he finally understood the siren’s warning. Midnight wasn’t the only darkness that turned him.

He was thankful for the rain when it started to pour onto the ship, allowing space for him to breathe. Yet he was relying more and more with putting his weight on the wheel. If he fell, he’d turn.

Fuck the witch for doing this to him. He couldn’t choose between her and his crew, he wouldn’t choose. He knew he’d choose wrong.

“Having trouble?”

“Speak of the devil and she will appear.” The captain grunted under his breath when he caught the siren’s voice over his shoulder. Her fingertips slid up his neck, tracing the sensitive gills,

“So moody. This is your fault, remember?”

“No, it’s your fault, and the least you could do is help me steer!” Hook snapped, smacking her arm away. A wave swelled under them, forcing the Jolly to careen hard on her port side. The punishing force joined with the trembling muscles in his legs knocked the captain off-balance and sent him sliding hard into the railing. 

He barely made out the shout from his crew about him going overboard before a second swell tipped him over the edge, unable to keep a hold on the slippery wood.

He turned as soon as he hit the water, his clothes dissolving in a cloud of smoke around him. Flailing his arms, the captain caught hold of a fishing net trailing in the choppy waves. The Jolly pulled him along viciously, straining his muscles and shoulders as she picked up speed in the wind. His tail was useless, flailing after him in the murk, unable to resist the currents surging with the storm.

Killian heard a faint chuckle over the roar and saw a faint glimmer in the corner of his eye. Emma floated passed a heartbeat later, swimming calmly as if the cyclone wasn’t enraging the waters around her.

He hated her.

“You’re doing fine, Captain.” She purred, reading his thoughts. He ignored her, forcing himself to clutch a knot father up on the net. The stability made it easier to move his arms despite the ache and again, he reached for a rope closer to the ship.

Suddenly his body snapped back at the waist, tearing his arms free and leaving him trailing upside down. His tail tangled in the rope he’d climbed over, a knot he couldn’t quite reach. Emma was nowhere in sight to help. He dangled uselessly, the waves swinging him so roughly his head spun. Hook hadn't been seasick in a long while, but he was starting to remember what it felt like. Purple blood swirled around him as his back slammed into the helm of the ship, the taste of it snapping him out of the helpless daze. He focused on it, reminding himself that he’s human. 

He’s not a monster.

He refused to be a monster.

Pain spread from his spine into his legs, the agony intensifying under his concentration. The net swung sharply forward, and, reaching his arms out pathetically, Hook tangled his hand into the ropes. His tail snapped free with the momentum, flailing apart into his usual legs. A relieved sigh fell from him despite the screaming sting in his back. That was a mistake.

The water filling his mouth and nose burned as he gagged, suddenly choking. Panic rushed in; he was too far under the water to swim up. His muscles weakened, temples poundings, vision darkening. Slowly, he slipped from the net and flew back in the foam left in the wake of his ship.

_Killian._

His eyes shot open at Emma’s voice, glimpsing her silver glow in the murk seconds before he was struck in the shoulder. A single rope twisted around him arm, allowing him to grasp it and hang on, despite the strain on his shoulder. The turbulence flung him to the surface, giving him just enough time to spit up brine before plunging back into the sea. Again, he smacked into the hull, softer this time. Bumping the wood a few times, Hook felt himself being pulled upward; first his head emerged, then the rest of him until he was forcefully yanked into his room through the open window. Of course, he’d forgotten to untie the rope from the previous night’s adventure. 

Sighing through his coughs, the captain looked up to see the siren standing over him, his clothes folded in her arms and an apologetic smile on her lips. He sneered at her,

“What the _hell_ is wrong with you?”

“Put these on before your crew comes down here.”

Yanking the black shirt and trousers from her hands, he pulled them on and hurried for the deck, shoving the hatch up as rainwater rushed down the steps.

He blinked.

Brilliant sunlight fell in golden panels onto the flooded deck while his crew scooped and dumped water over the rail. A few were drying ropes and retying the soaked knots. Those working on hauling up the fishing nets spotted him first, dropping the mass and skidding toward him with relieved shouts.

“Captain!”

“What happened?”

“Are you okay, sir?”

They helped him up the slippery stairs to the helm, where he saw the black storm clouds trailing behind. They reached long fingers through the blue sky as if trying to catch them again. Hook could still hear the rain on the ocean. Still, his men hounded him about his survival,

“I’m just lucky,” He snapped, his chest and spine sore and weary like he needed a ten year nap, “Leave me b-”

“Land ho!” A man at the helm shouted, pointing toward their starboard side. Yanking the spyglass from the hands of his first mate, Hook, sure enough, saw the hazy teal outline of distant mountains.

“Smee?”

“Uh...sir, it looks like we’ve _gained_ a day, though we’re slightly off course. Nothing a night of turning about won't fix.”  
“What?” He asked, puzzled, before he saw her again. Standing at the top of the stairs, looking at him nervously.

Emma, nervous; they didn’t mix. 

He could hear her voice without speaking, over and over again,

_I’m sorry, Killian._


End file.
